


On first and fierce affirming sight

by Kiraly



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Model Costis, Awkward Flirting, Grad Student Kamet, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, awkward first meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27729916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: When Kamet is assigned to TA for a drawing class, he gets a bit of a shock on the first day. What do they *make* them out of in the art department?Or, Kamet is a grad student trying to write his thesis, and Costis is modeling for an art class. Awkward first meetings lead to an even more awkward incident after class one day, which may just lead to something more.
Relationships: Kamet/Costis Ormentiedes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	On first and fierce affirming sight

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea for an AU like this floating around in my head a while ago for a different fandom, so when NaNoWriMo writer's block struck again I said "fuck it, I'm writing it with Costis/Kamet". I have taken MANY liberties with how universities function (there was never once a TA in any of my art classes, though I did go to a very small school) and with basically anything in this fic you could possibly want to be pedantic about. Except the description of the art building, that is 100% taken from my real life experience. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this silliness!
> 
> Title is from _Sunlight_ by Hozier.

“Explain to me one more time,” Kamet said, “Why you want me to do this.”

Laela tossed back the last of her coffee. “Because the art department needs someone  _ now,  _ and they don’t have a big enough graduate program to pull from. All their students are too swamped with their senior seminar work to take on an extra commitment. And you had some art history in undergrad, right?”

“Right,” Kamet said, “But I don’t know  _ anything  _ about studio art. I can’t draw a straight line to save my life.” 

“You don’t need to,” Laela said. “The professor does the actual teaching. He just needs you to show up to the sessions to take attendance and make sure the students stay on task. Maybe a little data entry, most of the studio art professors hate that kind of thing.”

Laela had been with the dance department for years before she moved into a job in student services. She was all-too familiar with the eccentricities of arts college faculty.

“Anyway,” she said with finality, “the class you were supposed to TA for got cut due to low enrollment, so you need this job. Are you in?”

When she put it like that, Kamet supposed he had to be.

* * *

The first thing Kamet noticed when he set foot in the studio art building was the smell: dry paper mingling with fresh paint and solvents, layered on top of the stuffy, dusty scent of old buildings with poor air circulation. It was not unpleasant; almost like the library where he spent most of his free time, but with more dangerous chemicals. As he climbed the stairs to the drawing studio he saw evidence of the building’s purpose everywhere, from sketches pinned to cork boards to what appeared to be a giant scarf knit from plastic bags, hanging from wires in the stairwell. The chaos was not exactly like the tiny corner occupied by the classics department, stuffed with old books and centuries of bad opinions, but it felt familiar anyway. Maybe this wouldn’t be so far outside his comfort zone after all.

That happy thought lasted right up until Kamet opened the door to the drawing studio and found himself face to face with a naked man.

“Augh!” Kamet slammed the door shut, but not fast enough to unsee it. Not that he necessarily  _ wanted  _ to; the man was  _ very  _ nice to look at, like someone had deliberately sculpted the perfect specimen and left him in the art building for Kamet’s admiration. But class wasn’t supposed to start for another ten minutes. It was too early for any of the art students to be playing a prank, which meant the man on the other side of the door could only be…well, art professors  _ were  _ supposed to be very strange people, but this was a level of weird Kamet hadn’t signed up for. He was half tempted to turn around and march back to Laela’s office to beg her for a new assignment.

The other half, the practical side, said that nothing would come of it and he’d be expected to see this through if he wanted to keep his measly stipend. So he did the practical thing. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and rapped on the door.

After a moment, the door creaked open. Kamet opened one eye, careful to keep it pointed at face level. He needn’t have worried; the man on the other side was someone totally different now, a fine-boned man going grey at the temples. He was no hardship to look at either—what did they  _ make  _ them out of in the art department, anyway? But he was certainly not the stunning example of human anatomy that Kamet had seen earlier.

“Can I help you?” the man said.

“Ah, yes, hello...Laela sent me? I’m supposed to be the new TA for the Drawing 200 class.”

The man’s expression cleared. “Oh, you must be Kamet! I’ve heard good things about you from the faculty in classics. Call me Relius, I’m the professor.” He waved Kamet into the room and closed the door.

The studio was large for a classroom, with clusters of oddly-shaped benches and wooden panels propped haphazardly around the space. Or...not randomly, Kamet realized, so much as they were all arranged in a rough semicircle facing toward the back corner of the room. The blinds were closed, and a small raised platform with an assortment of wooden boxes and pillows occupied most of it.

The other occupant, now wearing a lightweight blue robe, sat on one of the boxes and regarded Kamet with open curiosity.

“And you’ve already met Costis, who’s modeling for this class,” Relius said. “He usually gets here a few minutes early to prepare.”

“Um. Yes.” Kamet did his best to nod at Costis with cool detachment. He was  _ professional,  _ he could recover from a momentary embarrassment. “I suppose we did...meet.”

Costis smiled. “Wasn’t expecting anyone to open the door so early. Guess I’ll know better next time.”

“I  _ did  _ say you could change in my office, Mister Ormentiedes,” Relius said, eyeing Kamet with a knowing expression. “In any case, if you can finish setting up while I go over Kamet’s responsibilities, I would appreciate it.”

Kamet followed Relius into a tiny office that occupied the remaining corner of the room. It was just big enough for a desk, some shelves stacked with art books, and a mess of paperwork. He did his best to focus as Relius went down the list of tasks: helping set up the model area, adjusting the lights and monitoring the space heater if it got cold, taking attendance and entering grades into the university’s cantankerous computer system. All easy enough, certainly a lighter load than grading dozens of first-year essays. 

“I’ll want you at every class, though you don’t have to monitor the students too closely. I may call on you to keep an eye on things if I have to step out. You’re free to set up at one of the spare drawing horses if you like.”

Kamet blinked. “Horses?”

Relius pointed to the odd benches. He was, Kamet noticed, missing two fingers on that hand. Kamet wondered if that made it difficult to hold a pencil. “These are drawing horses. They’re designed for propping up a drawing board,” Relius explained. He picked up a large, flat piece of wood from a stack by the wall and propped it up to demonstrate. “You can also tip them on their ends so you can draw while standing. It allows a totally different kind of arm movement.”

“Fascinating,” Kamet said, and he supposed it was. If he’d taken time to think about it, he’d have said drawing was all in the hand and wrist. “And I appreciate the offer, but...I hope Laela told you, I’m not an artist myself.”

“I’ve heard that line before,” Relius said, “Usually from first year students trying to get out of a general education requirement. You’d be surprised what can happen with a little practice and the right inspiration.” 

Kamet’s eyes strayed to where Costis was draping a sheet over a pair of wooden boxes. He shook his head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Relius smiled. “Of course you’re free to bring other coursework to do instead. But think about it; you may find you enjoy yourself.”

Across the room, Costis finished what he was doing with the sheet and stood back, stretching his arms up over his head. The sleeves of his robe slipped down, revealing forearms as perfectly crafted as the rest of him. He certainly hadn’t gotten  _ those  _ from drawing, no matter what kind of arm movement it involved.

Forget enjoying himself. Kamet would be lucky to survive the semester.

* * *

Despite his earlier prediction, the class itself went smoothly. Kamet understood less than a third of what Relius said to his students, but he had expected that. He was keeping a list of unfamiliar terms in his notebook for later research. The students themselves seemed to be genuinely interested in their work; once they started drawing, they acquired an intense focus that he seldom saw in the seminars he usually TA’d. He didn’t know enough to tell if any of them were actually  _ good,  _ but none of them were falling asleep or texting under their desks, at least.

And then there was Costis. Kamet hadn’t had a chance to speak to him again before the students arrived, and he wasn’t sure how much interaction anyone was supposed to have in this situation. Were they allowed to talk? None of the students spoke to Costis, but they all seemed to view him as a piece of furniture with flexible joints. Obviously the room was set up with Costis’s comfort in mind; there were all those pillows, and the space heater, and after the warmup poses Relius made sure to ask for positions that wouldn’t be impossible to hold. There was a long break in the middle of the class so Costis could stretch and the students could run across the street for coffee. Kamet, after dithering for a few minutes about his options, retreated to the bathroom. 

Which turned out to be a mistake, because Costis was in there, washing his hands. He looked up at the sound of the door and smiled. “Kamet, right?” He held out a hand, then looked down as though he had just realized it was dripping wet and reached for the paper towel dispenser instead. “How do you like the class so far?”

If anyone else had asked him, Kamet would have said the class was going far better than he expected. But for some reason—maybe he’d just spent an hour and a half in a room where Costis was posing in the nude—Kamet had no idea what to say now that they were face to face and Costis was back to being partially dressed. 

“Oh, I’m not... _ in  _ the class,” he said, “I’m just the TA. I guess whoever Relius had before had to drop out.”

“Right, but...you were there, even if you weren’t drawing. Did it seem okay to you?”

Kamet hesitated. “The students all seem to enjoy it so far. And…” What was he doing? He didn’t know enough about art to answer the question, and he wasn’t enough of a philosophy student to pretend to know what he was talking about anyway. “I’ll be honest, this is the first time I’ve ever set foot in an art studio.”

Costis blinked. “You’re not an art student?”

“Do I  _ look  _ like an art student?” Kamet gestured to his pressed slacks and button-down shirt. “I dare you to find a speck of paint on this. And I have no idea what negative space means, or what the difference is between ‘vine charcoal’ and regular charcoal. Though I will say,” he added, because his pride did not appreciate admitting to ignorance, “I intend to find those things out before the next class. But I draw the line at paint-covered clothes.”

Instead of giving this outburst the pitying look Kamet deserved, Costis laughed. “Oh thank god. I don’t know what any of that means either, and I was wondering. Not that anyone will ask me.” He ran a hand through his hair—it was thick, with a suggestion of a curl that made Kamet want to touch it to see how the texture differed from his own—and put his other hand on the back of his neck. “As long as I can lay artfully still without falling asleep or giving in to the urge to scratch my nose, my part is pretty easy.”

“I wouldn’t say  _ easy,”  _ Kamet said, “some of those poses seemed...well...difficult.” He didn’t want to think about any of those poses in too much detail, not while they were actually having a conversation, so he skirted around the topic. “I take it you’re not an art student either?”

“Me? Oh, no.” Costis shook his head. “I’m doing the graduate program in athletic training. My advisor is good friends with Relius, that’s how I got this job.”

“Oh.” That made sense of the...well, the  _ everything  _ of Costis. “That sounds...practical. More so than classics, anyway. I was supposed to TA a third year seminar on regional linguistic variations this semester, but it got cut because no one signed up.”

Costis winced in sympathy. “That’s rough. Glad they gave you an alternative, even if it’s not in your field.” He stepped past Kamet and reached for the door. “I should get back before Relius comes looking for us, but it was nice to talk with you. Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

The smile he directed at Kamet had no right to be so blinding. Kamet was sure his own attempt to smile back looked pained. “I’d like that,” he managed to say. With a little wave, Costis left and let the door close behind him.

Kamet slumped against the sink and let out a long, slow breath. Beautiful  _ and  _ charming. And easy to talk to, enough so that he actually wanted to  _ talk to Kamet again sometime _ . Most people who had heard him utter the words “third year seminar on regional linguistic variations” made a quick exit and didn’t look back. Costis hadn’t minded. It was enough to make Kamet feel something like hope, dangerous as that was.

For the next few weeks, his hopes were only that. Sure, he and Costis continued to chat during breaks or as they were both leaving. But Costis had a standing commitment directly after class, and Kamet’s own coursework ate up too much time to plan something more formal. That was why he hadn’t made an effort to spend more time with Costis, he told himself. No other reason. 

Busy schedule or no, Kamet could still snatch a few moments of Costis indulgence here and there. Which was why he found himself lingering after class one day, organizing the contents of his bag even though they were already in order. He should be getting to the library to dive back into his research. But he felt obligated to stay until all the students had left, and then a little longer in case Relius needed him for something, which meant he was conveniently still there when Costis emerged from the office wearing his normal clothes and a smile.

“So where are you headed now?”

Kamet gave up pretending and closed his bag. “The library, probably. There are some books I need for my thesis that I can only use in the building, and it’s a good place to read.” The study carrels reserved for graduate students were his favorite part of the entire university. “What about you?”

Costis fell into step as Kamet started down the stairs. “I usually go to the athletics center for a class, but it got cancelled. So I was thinking...I need to go to the library as well, one of my professors recommended a book. So we can walk together!”

They were already walking together, but Kamet thought it might be unfair of him to point this out. Costis had been nothing but kind to him. Even though Kamet had behaved like a flustered schoolboy on their first meeting, their interactions since then had been pleasant despite their brevity. If Costis wanted to accompany Kamet to the library, that was fine. Kamet could get through a walk across campus without incident, surely.

At least, he  _ should  _ have been able to. There was no reason to think, after twenty-odd years of carrying him wherever he wished to go, that Kamet’s feet would betray him so utterly. But he wasn’t looking at them, too busy glancing at Costis out of the corner of his eye, when his shoe hit a loose paving stone and stuck there. The rest of his body kept moving. So did his glasses. The pain registered all at once: palms, knee, bones jarring from the impact. As he pulled himself upright, he could see the knee of his pants was torn, a red stain soaking into his khakis. But all of this was blurry, because his glasses were—

“Here.” Gentle hands settled the frames onto his nose. “Are you all right? Oh god, you’re bleeding.” Costis’s concerned face looked down at him, only a little marred by the fresh crack in Kamet’s lens. At least they hadn’t been totally shattered; he couldn’t afford a new pair. Bad enough he’d have to replace his pants. And his shirt—had he gotten blood on it too? Kamet reached for the hem to check, but winced as the skin on his palm protested. “Whoa, hang on.” Costis caught his wrist, still gentle, and inspected the damage. “Ouch. This scrape is going to hurt like hell for a while, but I don’t think you got any gravel in there. Let me see the other one?” Wordlessly, Kamet offered his other hand. “Same deal here. We should get you cleaned up though, come on. Can you stand?”

Kamet could, though his knees shook and the right one protested when bent. When he tried to lean over to pick up his fallen bag, Costis reached and got it for him. He shrugged it over his own shoulder, ignoring Kamet’s attempt to take it with a bloody hand. “Thank you,” Kamet murmured. “I’m...god, I’m so sorry.” 

Costis stared at him. “For what? You just tripped, it could happen to anyone.” 

“Yes, but I...should have been paying attention. You really don’t have to carry that, I’ll be fine.” Everything hurt, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle a little pain. It was going to be terribly inconvenient until he could get to his apartment and clean up, though.

“Of course you will,” Costis said, still not relinquishing the bag. “How’s the leg? Not causing problems when you put weight on it?”

“No.”

“Good. Let me know if it starts to hurt, I can carry you.” It sounded like a joke, but Kamet was pretty sure Costis meant it. Costis put a hand on Kamet’s back and started walking, leaving him no choice but to walk too. “It’s not far, come on.”

Maybe he was just distracted by the idea of Costis carrying him, but Kamet didn’t understand. “Not far to...where?” He hadn’t hit his head, and they were certainly  _ not  _ walking towards the library.

“The athletics center,” Costis explained, like it was perfectly natural to go to the gym after suffering an injury. 

“Excuse me? Do you think I want to go _lift weights_ right now, Costis?”

Costis rolled his eyes. “Um, no? They have a first aid station. You know, in case people get injured from all the weight lifting.”

“Oh.” Kamet looked at his feet. “I suppose that makes sense. You really don’t have to go to the trouble, though.”

The hand on Kamet’s back started to rub in slow circles. “It’s no trouble, Kamet.”

After that, Kamet decided he might as well stop talking and let this...whatever it was...happen. His knee throbbed with every step, and he could already tell that holding a pen would be miserable for a few days. If a good-looking man wanted to rub his back and carry his bag, by all means let him do it.

Kamet’s newfound sense of calm lasted all the way to the athletics center, even surviving the concerned scrutiny of the desk attendant and the small flurry of activity around getting him to the first aid station. The guy working there clearly knew Costis; after a few words of explanation, he ushered them into a room that looked almost like a doctor’s office. Kamet sank gratefully onto the padded bench while Costis rummaged around in a supply cabinet. It really did seem like everything would be all right.

And then Costis told Kamet to take his pants off.

“Excuse me,  _ what?!”  _

Costis frowned. “Your pants. I can’t clean your knee and put a dressing on it while you’re wearing them.”

“I’m not—I can’t just—We barely know each other, I’m not taking my pants off!”

Now Costis looked hurt. “I didn’t mean it like  _ that,  _ I would never...look, if you want I can ask Aris to come back in here and take care of it for you. I only thought you might be a little overwhelmed already and want your first aid to come from someone you’ve known for a few weeks, instead of someone you don’t know at all.” He stepped back from Kamet and reached for the door. “Anyway, it’s not like you haven’t already seen a lot more of me.”

That was true. It was also part of the problem. Kamet knew what his legs looked like, and even on a day when one of them wasn’t bleeding, they compared poorly to Costis’s. 

On the other hand, he really didn’t want Costis to leave. “Wait.”

Costis paused. 

“I...sorry, I know you didn’t mean anything like...that,” Kamet managed. “You’re right, I’m a bit overwhelmed at the moment.” He hugged his uninjured knee and tried to take a deep breath. “I’m just...very uncomfortable. It’s not your fault.” 

“Okay.” Costis studied him for a moment. “I can still get Aris, if you want.”

“No.” Kamet pushed to his feet, wincing as his body reminded him of all his various injuries. “Just give me a moment.” He managed to get his shoes off and was reaching wearily for his belt when Costis stopped him.

“Hang on, I just remembered something.” Costis set Kamet’s bag on the counter and dug around in his own. He pulled out a pile of blue fabric and offered it to Kamet. “Not exactly the same as a hospital gown, but you can wear this if it’ll help.” It was the robe he wore during his breaks.

“Oh, I…” Kamet had so thoroughly lost control of the situation that he had no idea how to react anymore. So instead of searching for some reason to refuse, he just said, “Thank you,” and accepted it. Getting his pants off was still a painful process; the blood had started dry in places and the fabric stuck to his abraded skin. But the robe did help. It fell past his knee and was far too big even with his shirt underneath it. And it smelled like Costis, which was more comforting than it should have been. Kamet decided not to think about that for the moment and sat back down. “You can turn around now.”

Costis had kept his back turned for the whole awkward pants-removal process; it was mostly a relief, though some pain-addled part of Kamet’s brain had entertained the thought of asking for his help. Now he reached for the medical supplies lined up on the counter and pulled on a pair of gloves. “I apologize in advance,” Costis warned, “this will sting.” It did, but Costis was gentle. After only a few minutes he had the scrape cleaned out and covered with a gauze pad. He moved on to Kamet’s hands next, making short work of them.

When it was over, Costis disposed of the gloves, handed Kamet a cup of water, and leaned against the counter. “Feeling a little better now?”

“Yes, thank you.” Now that the pain had subsided to a dull ache, Kamet mostly felt embarrassed. “Sorry for making such a fuss about...well, everything. I’m normally very level-headed.”

“It’s all right. Shock can affect people in different ways.” Costis smiled. “You’ve had plenty of shocking experiences since we met, I think.”

Kamet could feel the heat rising to his face. “I suppose so.” He reached for his pants, grimacing at the bloodstains. He’d cut a fine figure crossing campus: torn, bloody slacks and cracked glasses. He didn’t even want to consider what his hair was doing. Going to the library right now was probably out of the question.

Costis must have had a similar thought, because when Kamet had dressed and returned the robe, he asked, “You’re not still planning to go study, are you? You should rest.”

“I’m fine,” Kamet insisted. “I can’t go to the library like  _ this  _ though. I have to go home first and change.” It would be another late night studying, but he was used to those.

“Right, of course. Do you live close by?”

“No…” Kamet couldn’t see why that mattered. “Not really. Over on Mede Street.”

“But that’s all the way across campus!” They had reached the door to the athletics center, and Costis was making no move to go about his business. If anything, he was sticking closer to Kamet than before. “Do you drive? No?” His frown was deeper than Kamet had ever seen it. “Please tell me you’re at least going to eat dinner before you bury yourself in books for the night.”

Kamet squirmed beneath his gaze. “I’ll eat...at some point.” There was a secret vending machine in the library. And the staff turned a blind eye when he brought coffee in, as long as he brought them some once in a while. He had a whole list of their regular orders.

_ “Kamet.”  _ Costis sounded exasperated. “Don’t do that to yourself. Come with me.” 

“Come...where?” 

“My apartment is just around the corner. Let me at least get some food into you before you hike all the way to  _ Mede Street.”  _

Kamet should have argued. He’d already taken up too much of Costis’s goodwill for the day; surely it must have a limit. But he  _ was _ a little hungry, and the walk home didn’t seem at all appealing, so he let himself be shepherded around the corner and up three flights of stairs and planted on a hideous but surprisingly comfortable couch. There was a bowl of soup, and a question about whether he wanted a sandwich to go with it, but he never got around to answering. One moment he was setting his empty bowl aside, working up the motivation to escape the couch’s embrace...and the next, he was waking up on that couch with a pillow under his head and a blanket covering him. He found his glasses neatly folded on the coffee table.

“Um. Hello?” Kamet fumbled for his phone to check the time. It wasn’t as late as he had feared, but the sun had set and it was a long walk home. With a sigh, Kamet acknowledged that his plan to camp out in the library might be too ambitious after the day he’d had. “Costis?” No one answered. With a sigh, Kamet hauled himself off the couch and went looking.

There was a narrow hallway leading deeper into the apartment, and a light spilling through a partially-open door. Kamet braced himself and leaned forward to see into the space.  _ Please be Costis and not a roommate or a partner he conveniently forgot to mention,  _ he thought, and heaved a breath of relief when he saw that it was. Costis was hunched over a desk that was a little too small for him, typing away with two fingers while he listened to something through a set of headphones. The glow from the monitor gave his features a soft cast, and Kamet allowed himself a wistful sigh. Then he knocked.

“Kamet!” Costis stood and came to the door. “I didn’t hear you get up; I was listening to one of my lectures.” He gestured vaguely to the headphones around his neck. “Are you feeling better? You look less exhausted.”

It figured that while Kamet had been swooning over Costis’s perfect forearms and eminently touchable hair, Costis had been observing his sleep deprivation. “Yes, I seem to be fully recovered now. And increasingly in your debt.” Costis was kindness on top of kindness; not something Kamet was accustomed to, or deserved.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Costis protested, removing his headphones and setting them on a desk. “I’m just glad you’re all right. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d gotten halfway home and collapsed.” He leaned against the doorframe and smiled, a soft expression that somehow suited his firm jaw. “Probably would have gotten a look at you in a real hospital gown, I guess.”

Kamet felt his own mouth twitch into an answering smile. “Or Relius would have had to get a new TA, and you’d have to put up with someone else’s awkward attempts at flirtation.”

Costis raised an eyebrow. “Was that flirting? I  _ thought  _ the thing about the vine charcoal seemed like a come-on, but I couldn’t be sure.”

Dear sweet gods. “I...no, I was just…” Kamet’s flustered sputtering cut off abruptly as he watched Costis’s smile spread into a wicked grin. “You are  _ teasing  _ me!”

“Yes,” Costis admitted. “And since we’re talking about it, I...may have been trying to flirt with you a little bit. It’s kind of awkward to do that without coming off creepy, considering I made such a terrible first impression.”

“Um.” Kamet was still trying to wrap his head around  _ I may have been trying to flirt with you.  _ “Excuse me, are you saying  _ you  _ made a bad impression? I slammed a door in your face!”

“Right.” Costis chuckled. “So...is that not what you do when someone makes a bad first impression?”

This was the longest conversation they’d ever had, and already Kamet could tell this man would be the death of him. “No,” he said, taking a deliberate step forward, “that’s what I do when a devastatingly handsome man surprises me. A  _ bad  _ impression,  _ honestly  _ Costis? You’re one suit of armor away from a knighthood.”

It was ridiculous, the way a smile could transform Costis’s face. Kamet had already spent too much time cataloging its artistic merits, and he wasn’t even an artist. With the smile he was directing at Kamet now, Costis deserved a whole museum. “That’s a relief,” Costis said. “Because I was really hoping to ask you for coffee after class sometime. I was working up the nerve to do it before you tripped.” He reached out a hand, like he wanted to touch Kamet’s cheek but didn’t quite dare. “But...since this day hasn’t gone how either of us expected, could I ask you now?”

Kamet laid his cheek against Costis’s hand. “Considering I’ve seen you naked and you’ve seen me without pants, not to mention the part where I passed out on your couch...yes, I think you can.” He closed his eyes. He should wait, he knew, until he was less bruised and less tired and wearing pants without blood on them. It had been such a long day, though, and long weeks of denying himself what he wanted. Kamet was tired of waiting. “There’s something I want first, though.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

Kamet leaned forward, slowly enough that there could be no mistaking his intentions. He had to stand on his tiptoes—how unfair it was, for Costis to be tall as well as gorgeous—but it was worth the indignity. “This,” Kamet whispered, and kissed him. Costis’s lips were every bit as soft as they looked, smooth against the scratchy stubble along his jaw. Kamet wanted to lose himself there, in the press of warm skin and the safe circle of Costis’s arms wrapped around him. But then he gripped Costis’s shirt and his shredded palms screamed at him, and reality reasserted itself. Kamet pulled away, breathing hard but unable to stop smiling.

Costis, he was pleased to note, was also breathing hard. “So,” Costis said, “That’s a yes to coffee?”

Kamet laughed and rested his head on Costis’s chest. “Yes. Later, though. I really ought to clean up, and I’d like to be a bit less bruised before we...continue.”

Costis wrapped his arms loosely around Kamet’s waist to pull him into a hug. “It is pretty late for coffee. How about I walk you home, and we can make plans as we go?”

“I think that would be best.” Kamet wanted nothing more than to stay right there, far more comfortable than he should be in Costis’s embrace. But it  _ had  _ been a long day. If coffee went well, there would be time for further intimacies down the road.

So Kamet pushed away, but reached carefully for Costis’s hand. “Take me home?” he asked.

Costis smiled, and did.

* * *

_ Three months later  _

“Kamet,” Costis called, “Could you come here, if you’re not too busy?”

“What is it?” Kamet asked from the bedroom door. He’d been holed up in there all evening, working on his thesis and occasionally swearing about unreliable sources. Costis had left him to it; Wednesdays were his long shift at the athletics center, making poor first years lift weights. He’d come home a few minutes ago, upended his bag on the floor, and gone through its contents three times while Kamet looked on silently. 

“Have you seen my—oh!” Costis finally turned to look at him, and his eyes widened when he saw what his boyfriend was wearing. “Well that answers that question. I  _ am  _ going to need that robe, Kamet, I’m modeling tomorrow.”

Kamet leaned forward, enjoying the way Costis’s eyes followed the movement of his body. “What, this?” The robe was entirely too big for him; it slipped down one shoulder and showed an indecent amount of collarbone. “I took a shower while you were gone and borrowed it, I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Costis never  _ seemed  _ to mind, any more than he minded that Kamet used his shower or studied at his desk or slept in Costis’s bed more nights than he did his own. It had taken a while for Kamet to believe it, that Costis could really be as attracted to him as he was to Costis. But given how Costis reacted when he wore something like...well, like this, he had to admit it was true. It was nice to be looked at that way, like he was the one getting paid to put his body on display for aspiring artists. Kamet treasured those looks the way he treasured everything about Costis; he wanted to be worthy of that admiration. It was, admittedly, one of the reasons he’d waited around in a too-big bathrobe. 

“I don’t mind. But I  _ do _ have to pack that for tomorrow,” Costis said. “Unless you want all those art students to watch me strip.” He stood up and joined Kamet at the door, smiling down at him.

Kamet smiled back and hooked his fingers into Costis’s belt loops. “Oh dear, we can’t have that. What if one of them falls head over heels for you?”

“They haven’t so far,” Costis pointed out. His hands were warm on Kamet’s back, his smirk close enough to cover with a kiss. “Only the TA managed to fall for me.” 

“I only tripped,” Kamet said, feigning annoyance, “which as you’ve pointed out could happen to anyone.”

“It could,” Costis whispered, leaning close. His lips brushed Kamet’s, just a brief peck. “I am glad,” he said, punctuating the statement with another kiss, “that it happened to you. Who knows how long it might have taken us, otherwise?” 

“Who can know how long,” Kamet agreed, and this time he kissed Costis, far less briefly or chastely.

It was all very nice, the kissing, and Kamet would have been happy to let it go on for as long as possible. But Costis could be very stubborn when he was trying to make a point. “The robe, Kamet?”

“Oh, this?” Kamet leaned close to whisper in Costis’s ear. “I suppose you’ll have to take it back.” He pulled away then, deliberately turning so that his exposed shoulder faced Costis as he retreated to the bedroom. He paused at the threshold to glance back at Costis. “Coming?”

Costis laughed and followed him in.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot BELIEVE wikipedia does not have a page for "drawing horse," either it has a different name or no one knows about them, idk. Would remedy that but I don't know enough about their history to cite credible sources. ANYWAY here is a [pinterest link](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/99008891784645117/), which is the best I could do without directing to some commercial link. They are very nice for figure drawing!


End file.
